Brother in All But Blood
by eyecyou
Summary: The Warden & Co. have saved Connor, but there's someone else in Redcliffe whose life she needs to save.
1. Chapter 1: Brother in All But Blood

The evening fog matched the gloomy mood in Castle Redcliffe. While no more undead rose to attack the living, and young Lord Connor had been freed from demonic possession, the Arl still remained in his comatose state, getting neither worse nor better. Most living souls in the area were busy attending to the considerable cleaning and repair that the fortress badly needed. Others were resting in rooms, still wrestling with all they'd witnessed in the previous weeks.

A group of mages from the Circle of Magi and the ragtag band that followed the remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden were staying the night as guests of the Arlessa as thanks for their help in saving her son. Most of the guests had drifted to their rooms or had gathered in one of the salons to quietly speak. A single figure wrapped in a hooded cloak had warily taken a roundabout way toward the cellars from the guest rooms. A bored Zevran had caught the moment from the corner of his eye and trailed behind the figure. He idly wondered if the figure were out for a tryst or something more sinister. Either way, it had to be more interesting than the dry conversations the Circle mages were having.

The elf became concerned as he followed the figure from the cellar to the dungeon. So much for the tryst idea, he grumped silently. He found a corner and made himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The figure stopped in front of the only inhabited cell. The blood mage being held sleepily mumbled something. The figure hissed and the mage sat up.

"Jowan! Jowan wake up! Please!" Sevarra hissed, pulling back the hood of her cape.

"Sevvy?" Jowan yawned, obviously still in the process of fully waking up.

"Shh. Not so loud. Don't know if anyone else is here." she whispered.

He rose to his feet and came to the bars of his cell. "What're you doing here? Did something else happen to Connor?"

"Connor is fine. You, however, are not. You know what they'll do to you, right? Why didn't you run when I gave you the chance earlier?"

Jowan sighed. "I already told you. I'm tired of running. I want to make things right."

"Jowan, you know they're more likely to hang you than to hand you over to the Circle, right? The Arlessa doesn't strike me as a wellspring of mercy. Or the Arl's brother, for that matter."

"Well, I am a murderer and a malificar. Maybe I should be hung." he slumped his shoulders.

The Warden snarled. "Except you didn't kill anyone. The Arl is still alive, for now. If anything, you're only guilty of being an idiot. That's not a hanging offense! Everyone makes mistakes, no need to die for it."

"I'm not going to run away. I'll only mess things up again. Perhaps even worse."

"That's not the Jowan I remember. The brother I remember wanted to live," she ran a hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh. "Look, come with me. Alistair and I need the help. Badly. We could keep you safe from the Templars. They can't even say 'boo' if you're busy helping us Grey Wardens. I-I don't care if you use blood magic, even. I know it can make darkspawn just as dead as the magic I use."

"But you're asking me to run away, Sevvy. I don't see a difference between running off to save my skin and going with you."

"There's a sodding giant difference between fleeing to save yourself and fleeing to fight the Blight!" she hissed. "One is a little bit more selfless than the other."

"No.. No, I can't. I'd just get in the way. I just want to go back to the Circle."

"Jowan. I've been back to the Circle. It-it's in ruins. There were demons. And abominations. So many mages and templars are dead. It's not what it was like before. I'm honestly convinced even sweet ol' Cullen would stab you instead of saying hello if you turned up back there. Uldred- he did things, hurt so many people. I'm scared they'd lump you in with him and kill you."

Sevarra stepped back from the bars and wiped away her tears on a sleeve of her tunic. She didn't recall when the tears had begun.

Jowan stood there, looking conflicted for several moments.

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"NO!" The woman growled as she lunged forward, reached through the bars and grabbed the man's collar in both hands. Considering that there was more than 12 inches difference in height between them, this caused her to bonk his head on a bar unintentionally.

"Ow! Hey! Watch-!"

"No! You are going to shut up and LISTEN! You don't understand how many of us died in that tower. More than half of the people we studied with ARE. DEAD. GONE. Just when they need us mages the worst, in a damned blight, our numbers are dwindling. They need every one of us! Can't you see that? ONE mage is worth more than ten soldiers, you know that! I don't sodding CARE if a mage is a malificar. If they'll help us protect people, we will take all the help we can get! The darkspawn aren't going to be particular about who they murder!"

She let go of his collar and pushed him back.

"If nothing else, you owe me, Jowan. Greagoir was going to have me made Tranquil for my little stunt helping you and Lily. If not for the Warden-Commander being there and Conscripting me, I would be dead now."

Jowan slumped his shoulders and hung his head.

Sevarra took several breaths to calm herself. Once she spoke again, the words were icy.

"I am going to open the sodding door. I am going to give you some supplies. By Andraste's tits, you are going to follow this tunnel out to the windmill and escape. If nothing else, you are going to save your own blasted life. Do you hear me?"

After opening the door and shoving a full pack at the taller mage, the woman pulled him into a tight hug. He pulled on a thick woolen cape from the pack and carefully made his way out of the tunnel and toward freedom in the foggy night above. After she was certain he'd gotten away, she spun on her heel and went to the cellar. Zevran was left in his hiding place with his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2: Only Human

No Fang, No Sevarra, again. Alistair set his mouth into a thin line. She'd taken to roaming in the evenings with just herself and the dog since the events at Kinloch Hold and Castle Redcliffe. She spoke only when necessary and otherwise remained silent. He suspected the reasons why and felt no need to pry.

Two miles away, Sevarra planted her behind on a tree stump and buried her face in her hands. She sobbed as quietly as she could manage. No way in hell was she going to allow anyone, especially Morrigan, to see her like this. Wynne would just cluck like a hen and offer some platitude. She was in no mood to deal with anyone who could talk back.

Is this what the Lothering survivors felt like? she wondered. Her band of misfits had found the village in ruins on their way east from Redcliffe. No living creature had stirred in what remained of the settlement's buildings.

Unlike Lothering, there were still living people at Kinloch. Most of them templars, but living people, none the less. She could put a name to every dead human and elf her group had found during their search for survivors in the tower. Mere months ago, those people had been walking, talking, studying, planning for the future. Because of one man, all of them were no more. It hurt, even if she hadn't been fond of many of them.

Uldred had paid for what he had done. She'd delivered the killing blow herself. But it felt hollow. He was dead, but so were the majority of his victims. Even if she survived this Blight, home would never feel like home again. Where, if anywhere, would she go?

Fang whined and pawed at her leg. Time was up, they needed to return. The mage gave the mabari's ears a scratching before beginning the stroll to camp. Everyone but Alistair had retreated to their tents for the night by the time the war hound and his mistress arrived.

"Fang needed fresh air and a walk," the mage said.

"He's needed a lot of it lately, it seems." came the reply.

"At least it keeps him from chewing Roland's leggings. Again."

Fang whined. He knew he'd been ratted out.

She wanted to say more, about almost anything, but her tongue felt weighed down in her mouth, refusing to form words. Instead, she nodded to Alistair and retreated into her tent, her mabari following moments later. After fighting off her boots and neatly folding up her clothes, the mage curled into her bedroll, hoping that sleep wouldn't prove as elusive as it had the previous night.

Instead of sleep, her subconscious thought it would be a good time to stir up memories of a certain templar by the name of Cullen. For years, she'd stared at him yearningly, smiling shyly, taking roundabout paths in the tower just so she could catch a glance of him. Once in a while, she caught him staring back from the corner of her eye. Finding him alive during the search for survivors had made her far happier than she dared to show. Finding out that the infatuation had once been mutual was both joyous and heartbreaking. The things he'd said while caught in that magical trap... well, a sword in the gut couldn't have hurt any worse.

A sin. That's what he'd called his feelings. Why was liking someone a sin? Was it because she could use magic? Why did that make her forbidden fruit? She bled red just like everyone else.

Walking the Fade and stumbling over a demon was never fun. Walking the Fade and looking for demons on purpose was even less enjoyable. Yet, she'd done that, too. Freeing Alistair, Sten, and Zevran from their nightmares hadn't been as difficult as escaping her own. She'd lied when questioned what her nightmare had been. She told them she had been in the libraries of Weisshaupt with Duncan. What she really had to wrench herself away from was the illusion of a Cullen confessing his feelings and offering to run away together. The trap had almost worked.

Sevarra pulled her pillow over her head with a frustrated growl. Maker, why couldn't these thoughts just go away, or at least not torment her when trying to sleep? She'd have to see about making a sedative if this kept happening. The only thing was, blood lotus didn't grow anywhere nearby. So much for that idea.

Two nights later, as she was heading back to camp with Fang from yet another session alone in the wilds, the pair were intercepted about halfway by Alistair.

"Needed a walk so you won't chew on leggings, too?" she teased. She hoped the night hid her reddened eyes. She'd given up on wearing kohl for a while, otherwise, it would've been smudged into oblivion by her crying jags.

"I'll leave that to the dog, he gets more fun out of it than I do," he replied. "What's been eating you? You vanish every night."

To the point. Not like him. Only one attempt at a joke.

"Oh, I'm just peachy. Other than seeing the only home I've ever known get invaded by demons and abominations. Oh, and finding out that half the people I grew up with are dead. Kind of a letdown, that." she tried to sound glib.

He winced. "Right. Right. Not crawling with undead, but still just as.. horrifying."

She hung her head, remembering Redcliffe Village. She wasn't the only one to see their home torn to bits. But at least Redcliffe still had people to rebuild. There were so few mages left alive in Kinloch.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Both were reluctant to break the quiet, recent hurts stirred up once more. A few yards from the outskirts of camp, she balled her hands into fists and sobbed.

"What if we'd been too late? For Connor? What if we had gotten to the tower a day too late and failed to find Irving in ti-"

Panicked at the sight of a crying woman, Alistair floundered about how to react. He went with the first idea to occur to him and pulled her into a hug.

"We weren't too late. That's what matters," he said.


	3. Chapter 3: In Dreams

_(This takes place just before the first chapter. This is what happened in the Fade while rescuing Arl Eamon's son. I'll put things in a more chronological order once most of the story has been finished and edited. Sorry!)_

She opened her eyes and once again found herself in the Fade. At least this trip was a willingly taken one. Sitting up and scowling at her surroundings, the Warden gathered her wits. She was beginning to hate coming into the Fade. It seemed to bring nothing but ill-luck and demons. Oh, and death, one cannot forget death.

 _Find the creature holding the boy captive,_ that was the mission, she reminded herself.

Rising up, Sevarra picked a direction and began walking. She knew that everything was both miles and mere feet away, she just had to wait for the Powers That Be to decide to reveal what they would. After several minutes, she heard a man's voice ring out, echoing. Switching into a jog from a lazy walk, she followed it to its source.

"Connor! Connor, where are you?" he called out.

Panting after scrabbling up the hill, the mage laid her eyes on a man in finely made clothing and graying hair. _That must be the Arl_ , she thought. She tried to coax him into offering what knowledge he had about the situation. Sadly, he had nothing useful to add. The Arl was convinced she was some sort of demon. He cursed at her and began reciting the Chant of Light. Sighing, the Warden moved on.

I _'m getting awful sick of hearing that Chant,_ she grumbled in her thoughts. Ears perking up at the sound of a young boy's voice, she trotted in its direction.

 _What is it with all of these hills?_ she muttered as she crawled up yet another. Was the Fade trying to tell her she needed to exercise more? _I wasn't the only one who demolished that cheese wheel,_ she thought, _I had the decency to share it with Alistair!_

Looking about, her gaze fell upon a young boy with a coppery mane who bore a striking resemblance to Lady Isolde with a hint of... Bann Teagan? No, that couldn't be right. Perhaps the brothers closely resembled one another as younger men? Shaking her head to clear it of speculation, she approached the boy.

"Who are you?! Are you the one who made Father sick? Tell me now!" he demanded.

Something gently tickled the back of her mind. Magic, nearby. Wafting off someone. The mage narrowed her eyes. Something was afoot.

"Are you really Connor or are you just a demon in disguise?" she shot back. He reeked of magic.

"You could be a demon, too!" he stomped his foot, looking as if to begin a tantrum. "You could be a demon that just looks like a person!"

"Or, you could be a guardian of this place sent to confuse me," she glared. Her gut clenched. This was no ordinary boy.

"You're here to hurt father! I won't let you!" his form shimmered and reformed into that of a lilac-skinned woman with horns and magenta flames for hair.

 _Sometimes, I hate being right,_ she thought as she began the battle, unleashing a spell. Memories of the abomination that was Uldred fresh in her mind, she harnessed her anger and quickly defeated the desire demon. Her defeated foe faded away in a wash of sparkles.

A handful of steps pulled her away from the hill and deposited her in front of an ebony wood door. Pursing lips for just a mere moment, she tugged on the handle and opened it. A small room with a freshly made bed and wooden toy soldiers scattered on the floor greeted her. Another red-headed boy, identical to the previous one, crawled out from under the bed and peered up at her.

"Why do you keep hunting me? Why are you trying to stop me?" he pleaded.

Fluttering her eyes closed, her mind felt the telltale tickle of magic nearby. This was no ordinary little boy, either.

"I highly doubt that you are actually Connor, creature," she replied.

"And if I were Connor, what would you say to him?" he growled.

She smirked, gaze turning predatory. "I'd tell him that I see the demon controlling him."

"You won't find what you seek! Turn back now!" he glowered.

"Oh no, dear. I'm not going until I get what I came for," the mage answered.

"Then I shall drive you out myself!" his form shimmered, revealing yet another desire demon. A pair of rage demons clawed up through the ground, joining their companion in battle.

Such a sight during her Harrowing would have made her quake in fear, perhaps move her to plead for her life. But at that particular moment in time, it just pissed Sevarra off. With merely a thought, a cone of bitter cold shot from her hands, freezing the trio of attackers solid. With a scream of rage, she hurled magical boulders at each one, shattering them.

The mage sank to the floor to catch her breath. Even in the Fade, one could exhaust their supply of mana. Once she felt her energies recover, a trapdoor appeared in front of her. Opening it revealed a ladder. For lack of a better idea, she descended. She found herself in what had at one point been a library. Bookshelves were knocked over at random, tomes were scattered all over the floor, in various states of disrepair. Yet another ginger boy crawled out from behind a bookshelf.

"Father wanders, seeking, trapped within my web. All is as it should be. Why would you interfere?" he asked.

"Because you have interfered where you should not. You have taken an innocent child." she spat.

"Connor INVITED her, they struck a FAIR deal. She has every right to do as she wishes! It is time for you to go now! Persist and things WILL go very badly for you!" he growled. Once again, the boy-creature shifted into the shape of a desire demon. This time, a trio of rage demons joined it.

Weaving trap spells and making creative use of ice magic, she managed to thin the herd enough to manage two-on-one combat to deal with the desire demon and one of the rage demons, dodging blows and frantically tossing bolts of lightning. After the last of the demons fell, she sank to her knees again, feeling drained. Magic demanded energy, no matter what side of the veil one called on it from.

Blearily, she looked up and noticed a protrusion of pale blue crystal erupting from one of the fallen bookshelves. It was... humming? Crawling over to investigate, she stared at the small formation. The humming grew louder as she drew closer. Gingerly, she touched it. Her mind filled with a wordless song as her energies rushed back to her. _Is this lyrium?_ she thought. _It sings, just like my ring?_

Stalking around the library, she found a brass door. It proved resistant to opening easily. She pulled with all her weight and a grunt. Hinges loudly squeaking their protest, the door opened by a few inches. She peered out the small gap. Great, another hill, she groaned to herself. After shoving the door open a few more inches wider, she squeezed out and began climbing.

Reaching the summit, she beheld a large desire demon. This particular specimen wore easily a dozen bangles of gold and silver on each arm and an ornate neck-piece that carried dozens of gems of varying colors. It scowled at the invading mage as it languidly closed the space between them before speaking.

"Very well, no more illusions. We meet face to face. You stand in MY domain, the seat of my power. I have no wish to engage you, nor should you wish to engage me. Let us be civilized and converse. We're not so different, you and I."

A low chuckle escaped the Warden's throat. She smiled at the creature.

"And just what is so amusing, mortal?" it asked.

"I know what you are. I've fought your like before. My master did not raise a fool. There will be no bargains made here. I will give you one chance. Release the boy and leave, never return to him. Do that, and you may leave peacefully. Otherwise..." the mage smiled toothily, "I deal with you personally and permanently."

The demon tossed its head back and laughed heartily. "Surely you jest!"

"Wrong answer."

The lyrium's song still resonating in her mind, Sevarra focused on a lesson she'd been given some time ago. Fur sprouted from her skin, claws erupted from her fingers. In a burst of a light, where the mage once stood, a massive bear reared up on its hind legs and roared. A great paw slapped the demon across the face, drawing blood. The demon tried to defend itself. She gave it credit for the effort. It made the job a bit more fun. Shortly after crushing the creature's windpipe in her ursine jaws, she awoke, pulled from the Fade.

As her vision cleared, she saw the concerned faces of the First Enchanter, Wynne, Jowan and several other Circle mages staring down at her. She sat up, exhausted, and stared at her hands. Normal human hands, not great bear paws. Thank the Maker, her secret was safe.

"The boy...?"

"Is free," Wynne softly replied.

"Thank the Maker, something finally went right," the Warden sighed. Accepting Jowan's offered hand, she let herself be pulled up and led away to a seat by the fire and a cup of tea. She would need to remember to thank Morrigan for her help later.


End file.
